Driftwood
by AnonymousBystander
Summary: Dante returns to the ruins of Mallet Island... Trish has disappeared, the ghost of his brother lurks... and the beaten and broken body of a young woman has washed up on the beach. Who is hunting him? Not everything is what it seems...
1. Driftwood

I dont own 'em I'm just borrowing 'em.

Oh yes... and MY OC AND DANTE DO _NOT_ FALL IN LOVE! That sort of thing pisses the hell out of me.

* * *

The girl blinked wildly as sunlight burst across her vision.

"Oh Christ!" She cried and flung herself onto her stomach, shielding her eyes. Her voice was torn, her skin cracked and salty and her muscles were stiff and seized.

Where was she?

Squinting fiercely, she tried to look around her. She was on a beach of some making, probably a sea – given that she could hear waves behind her and they occasionally lapped at her feet playfully.

As her eyes adjusted, she gathered the strength to swallow. Immediately she hacked up sand so violently, she was sick. Salty water gushed down the sand to rejoin its brothers in the ocean after its brief stay in her stomach.

Feeling even weaker after being so violently sick she attempted to rise to a sitting position. Dragging herself in the sand, she clasped a hand tightly around a large rock and painstakingly pulled herself from the ground.

Why was she in so much pain?

Resting against the rock she glanced at it, noticing that it was a volcanic rock – like much of the others that dotted the dark beach. She frowned, not quite being able to explain to herself why she had known it was volcanic.

It was then that it dawned on her; she had no idea who she was.

She coughed as she looked up at an old castle in front of her.

"My sympathies to the housekeeper." She rasped. The old brickwork was rotting away, covered with lichen, moss and mildew. It's once magnificent stained glass windows were filled with jagged holes, ravaged with age. The dust on the cobblestones completed the demonic, gothic architecture. In fact, it almost looked familiar.

She looked behind her at the narrow beach and looked down at herself. She was in one piece, nothing broken. Her body still felt stiff and awkward though. Limping stiffly she noticed a large black sheet on the cobblestones. It was a thick, warm fabric. Kicking the sheet to the side, her foot hit something hard. A pair of blades. She winced, realising how near to skewering her foot she'd come. It was lucky that she hadn't maimed herself worse than she was.

"So... Dorathy's landed on the Wicked Witch of the East... bring out the Munchkins." She muttered.

Grumbling at the irritating confusion of it all, she slowly crouched down to wipe the dust of the side of her army boots. Straightening up again, she stamped her foot to get the mud out of the cracks of the soles of the boots. The metal that encircled the semi-circle of her heel clinked almost inaudibly. Hesitantly, she picked up the strange sheet. If she was going to be wherever she was for a while, she might need something to keep warm.

She twisted it around her shoulders and looked around herself in a wide circle. Where was she? More importantly; _Who_ was she?

She looked up at the castle. Perhaps she could find the answer in there? There had to be someone on this godforsaken island… maybe they knew her… maybe they'd been separated?

Setting her shoulders she walked through the castle's gardens. As she walked her muscles started to relax and loosen; reducing the limp and making it easier to walk.

To her left were two gilded doors that led into a towering lobby. She could hear the tinkling of a fountain. _Here? In a ruined castle? Who was paying the water bill? _She shook her head, not wanting to think about who - or what - might like to live in run-down old houses like this. Serial killers, rapists... serial rapists. She shuddered. She was suddenly struck with the thought that she didn't have anything to defend herself with. She started walking through the large room, continuously looking into the upper balconies and stepping as quietly as she could.

She was about to call out a tentative 'Hello?' but caught herself. She couldn't go around announcing her presence to the world. She was obviously somewhere where she hadn't traveled willingly, and that was enough to make her extremely cautious. She had injuries she didn't remember receiving that must have been inflicted by someone… or something… She had to make sure that who - or what - had brought her here, didn't know that she was scared stiff. She also had to make sure that she had some way of defending herself against...

_Ghosts? Ghouls? Flesh-eating zombies?_

She looked around warily; half-expecting to find what had attacked her had come back and finish her off.

She noticed paintings on the walls, some were aged beyond recognition and some were almost perfect. Trying to take her mind off who... or what... might be hiding in the shadows, she decided to look at the artworks. She saw melting clocks in one, and smiled at the next one; The stairways into nothingness, impossible given earth's gravity, but breathtaking and stunning to look at. She expelled her breath sharply, blowing dust off the last painting on this wall.

She looked at the painting in wonder; reaching out her hand. Her slender, long fingers touched the painting, swiping off the dust. A name was written in the corner, the artists name: Chagall.

The girl's eyes scanned the familiar painting; the barn full of disjointed body parts, the fiddler playing the melody that the naked, hairless bodies clapped in time to, and the headless crows flying in circles. Blind death.

Something small and sharp hit her on the back of the head. She leapt around, ready to scream into the face of some blood-covered dead creature.

"What?!"

The crumbling face of an ancient pillar greeted her. She slowed down her heart rate to its original BPM. The stone face of the pillar extended above her to the roof, where large chunks of the stone were missing. It looked like gravity was winning that war.

"Screeaiih!"

The unearthly scream echoed off the walls. The girl placed her back against the wall, stopping her from being surprised by the creature that had made the sound, visions of death flitting in her mind and making the shadows swell from the walls. A cackle sounded afterwards, like the popping of bubbles from a saucepan.

She decided that now was the time to find a large blunt object. She looked around the corner of the wall, from the hallway on her left was a greenish glow, from the hallway on her right there was only darkness. She swallowed her heart back into her chest; discovering that she must be afraid of the dark. Not liking the shade of green that was coming from the other end of the hallway, she darted down the shadowed end.

A loud metal scraping noise was heard. Like a blade being scraped against a stone wall, she imagined sparks flying from it. Absently, she wondered if the metal looked like the blades that she'd almost impaled herself on.

She stopped breathing, trying to hear what it was that was - undoubtedly - following her. After a minute of silence, her breath slowing down back to a normal pace. A bolt of terror went through her though as another scream echoed through the castle.

_A Sin! It's a Sin!_

She looked around wildly, mind blank with terror for a moment. She bolted further down the hallway and came across about twelve suits of armor. Bingo. She scanned the suits of metal, spotted with rust. The scraping got closer and closer. Finally, she settled on two smallish swords.

She frowned and gave them a test swing. There was no sense in being in a strange place with no way to defend yourself. They felt large and clumsy. They worked alright, but she had to use more of her arm muscles to move the swords. As a thought, she grabbed the two sheaths that went across the armors back. There was no use having weapons if you didn't have somewhere to keep them. She spun the swords using their hilts; suddenly surprised with the dexterity she'd displayed.

"I guess I'm a swordswoman." She said aloud, once again surprising herself; her throat was healed. The cackling got louder.

Then she saw it.

The greenish glow came from the mist that it seemed to float on. It _looked_ like some kind of woman, except greenish and see-through. Of course, then there was the scythe. It was slightly rusted, but she could not distinguish the oxidised iron from the dried blood.

There was also something familiar about it too… something that made her feel like it wasn't a threat.

"If you come any closer," She declared shakily, "Then I might hurt you… I don't want to hurt you, but I will."

She noticed how unsure of itself the creature looked. It gave her back a small amount of her courage, which was comforting. Being a teenage girl she was sure she wasn't used to this sort of thing – waking up in excruciating pain and relearning how to walk, let alone nightmares in dark hallways!

The creature moved in closer and waved its arms menacingly. Her legs shifted, making one swift jolt as she darted towards it. In a show of grace that amazed even her, she swung a sword upwards and through the centre of the ghoul in a diagonal cut… stopping when the sword hit the blades. She almost slapped her forehead, metal can't cut metal!

She followed through with the blow and spun, slicing off the green head. The nightmare fell to the floor with a heavy thunk where it screamed then dissipated. The blood slowed in the girl's veins.

"I...I did it." She whispered. She took one last look at the fallen monstrosity. It had that same deflated look that the sheet that she'd discovered before had. A lump caught in her throat as she looked at the fallen creature – feeling a strange kinship with it.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, taking the scythe gently from the limp cloth. She swung it, hearing it hum gently. Frowning, she spun it around her gracefully.

"Well hello there." She murmured to it. She reached down and scraped the dried blood off its curved blade. It winked at her enticingly; the handle changed – smoothing and lengthening. Thoroughly confused, the girl shrugged. If the scythe had decided it liked her; who was she to argue? Taking a leather strap from the suit of armor she'd borrowed the swords from, she looped it around her shoulder and slid the scythe into it. Replacing the swords she shook her head and continued her dash down the hallway.

She came to the base of a large flight of stairs, leading up into the darkness that seemed to be a recurring motif in the interior design. She rubbed the joint in her leg, not wanting to stay still for too long, or else the muscles started to twitch.

There was an echo of clacking wood behind her. She spun, scythe arching gracefully in the moonlight. She looked at the fallen creature. It looked like some sort of deflated puppet.

"A Marionette?!"

Yet another creature that looked familiar. Her heart jolted as something bobbed to the surface of her mind; Marionettes travel in Hoards...so where were-

_Oh Shit_.

Her thoughts were interrupted by blades scraping at the stone floor. At least she'd found the rest of them. The only downside was that they outnumbered her about seven to one.

Combine that with the fact that they were about seven feet tall, and the odds weren't exactly in her favour.

"Great." She muttered.

One of the Marionettes swiped at her. Double-handed, she brought the scythe down in a 45 degree arc, then swung it to her left as another Marionette joined its fallen Packmates. Another leapt onto her back. She could feel the pin-pricks of its blades pierce her skin. She gave a noise of frustration, spun the scythe behind her – beheading it - and rammed her back into the wall, crushing it like a soggy balloon.

More hollow clacks.

Leaping backwards to avoid a spinning Bloody Mari, she spun the scythe so fast it flew from her grip – lanced through the puppets like a saw blade and spiraled back to her. She smiled, looking at it in loving wonder.

Without warning a wooden hand latched onto her arm. She saw another Marionette grabbing a pointed candelabra.

_Oh. fuck!-_

Impulsively, she shielded herself with the Marionette on her arm. It screamed as the projectile pierced its back. With a cry she skewered it on the scythe and launched it at a group of oncoming Marionettes. They toppled over each other, flying to pieces. She felt more latch onto her shoulders.

"Why won't you fucking die!!?" She tried to shake them off, but they clung on stubbornly.

A sudden flash of red caught her eye to the right, in her peripheral vision she saw someone watching from the wall. Another Marionette tried to tear out her throat, catching it's sharp fingers on her collarbones. She hissed in pain and spun her scythe around her in a circle, feeling satisfaction as the puppets were swept across the room.

Using the wooden end of the scythe, she smacked the Marionette at her back and it fell off. Without warning, a Marionette leapt at her chest. She traveled backwards and hit the wall with a smack. Winded, she dropped her scythe on the stone floor, where it hummed and dimmed.

_Damn it!_

Closing her eyes, she held her breath, ready for the ripping and tearing. She could hear the scraping of the Marionette blades, almost swearing that she already felt them nipping at her neck, tearing her skin into shreds. But no. Some sudden twist of fate interfered with her death.

In the most _unlikely_ form.

There was a very fast click of a clip being loaded and gunshots echoed through the hall. Opening her eyes, she used the wall to get to her feet. In front of her lay the Marionettes that had held her, on the ground, whilst the others were retreating. A low chuckle could be heard as the bodies disintegrated into floppy pieces of cloth. The girl looked for her savior, then caught her breath, surprise flooding her.

It was Him.

His platinum colored hair fell to his jaw line and starkly contrasted his tanned face. Only on him could white hair look... amazing... without making him look ancient. His icy blue eyes were regarding her with suspicion. He turned away wordlessly, his ankle-length blood-red coat fanning out behind him like an afterthought. It was rolled back to the elbows, showing black gloves which were holding two guns, a black and a sliver, smoke rising from the barrels.

She spied her scythe on the floor, too far to reach. She instantly felt extremely vulnerable… and then she saw a heavy-looking sword resting on his back.

_Crap._

He stopped, then turned around again, as if wanting to say something but doubting his own decision to say it. He looked serious, as if he very rarely smiled. He was analysing her. She felt goosebumps crawl across her skin as his eyes scanned her.

"You fight like one of _them_." He growled, "But you don't look it."

"I... I... think..."

Her eyelashes fluttered, her eyes slowly closing. She looked at a gash on her upper arm; the top was torn. It was dripping blood slowly.

"...that can't be... good..." She could feel her knees getting weak, buckling underneath of her. The blackness swallowing her whole as she felt her head slam against the cold stone floor.


	2. Introductions

For the second time in our story, the strange girl opened her eyes like rusty garage doors – slowly; regaining consciousness only to stare into the strangest icy-blue eyes she'd ever seen.

Blue eyes?

With a burst of strength, she kicked the warm body away from her with both feet. She stood up, swaying and watching the man as a rabbit would watch a fox. Her head pounded, hammered with pain, from fainting. She looked at her arm. It was bound, and no longer bleeding. She seemed amazed. She looked back at the man, who had also been taken by surprise.

"Are you alright? I'm not going to pick you up again." He raised an eyebrow. She looked over him again, examining him herself this time.

Still tensed to run, she summed things up in her head; this man had just saved her life, she'd blacked out - in which anything could have happened to her... so what was she going to do now?

A hand to her pounding head, she blinked hard and shook her head, trying to clear her vision.

"I save your life, and this is the thanks I get?" He got to his feet.

She narrowed her eyes,

"Yes, and it's the only thanks you'll get. I didn't ask for your help."

"So you thought that you could take on an entire Hoard of Marionettes solo?" He looked mildly amused. "And here I was, thinking I was the only person _that_ stupid."

The girl's cheeks burned,

"I believe I was coping fine until you showed up."

"I could just shoot you if you really want; I'm not particularly opposed to suicide. It would have the same effect as taking on a horde of Mari's solo." A note of humor slipped into his voice.

"You could have just stayed there, watching from the wall and scavenged my weapons when I was dead."

"You saw me?"

"Red is rather bright against a grey wall."

"Must be losing my edge."

She laughed,

"The Marionettes had to be chasing someone to begin with, did they not?"

"Oh really?"

"Come to think of it, you probably killed that creature in the courtyard too."

"Clever girl."

She gave a small sarcastic smile,

"I like to think so."

She spotted her scythe on the floor. He saw the glint in her eyes as she started walking for them. He stopped her with a hand on her wrist. Automatically, she spun him and twisted the arm behind his back.

"I'm just getting my scythe."

He smiled,

"Not yet, you're not." He grabbed her other arm and swung her around, pinning her against the wall.

"I still don't know who you are, what you're doing, and whether or not you'll stab me in the back the next chance you get." Not to mention, she thought to herself, I don't know if you're the person who half-killed me. She growled and kneed him in the stomach. He winced, but didn't budge. She sighed and gave up struggling,

"I'm harmless... if that's what you're afraid of."

"Harmless? Sure. So am I."

"Look, I'm thankful for you saving my life and that, but…" She trailed off. Somehow saying that she didn't know who she was or where she came from would seem pretty unbelievable when she apparently knew how to fight _very_ well.

"Why don't you tell me who you are, then I might let go of you." The man stressed the 'might'. The girl studied his face. She didn't trust him. She didn't know why, but she didn't. She never trusted anyone that she'd just met. Especially some strange-looking man who'd appeared out of nowhere and just _happened_ to save her life.

"I don't know." She muttered.

"What?"

"I don't know who I am. Now let me go."

"How can you not know who you are?"

"I woke up less than 2 hours ago on the beach beside the courtyard." She snapped, "I can't remember anything before that."

After a moment's hesitation, he stepped back. The girl started for her scythe again. He blocked her way...again.

"One step at a time, darling."

"Don't call me darling, or I'll stop being harmless and shove your guns where it hurts."

He laughed, shaking his head. She rolled her eyes and waited for him to explain what was so damn funny. He leant against a wall, still smiling,

"I'm sorry. I found that thought hilarious."

"You don't think I'd do it?"

"Only if I let you get close enough to try." His eyes suddenly grew colder. She glowered at him.

"Tell me where I am." She said dangerously.

"You're on Mallet Island." He spoke as if it were obvious.

"Mallet Island? Where's that?" She was frowning, confused.

"You really must have hit your head hard back there."

"Where am I?"

"On top of a Hell Gate."

The shock spread across her face.

"You didn't know?" He said, amused. She was silent, thinking. "...and you're from...?"

"_I don't know_! I wake up on a beach alone, with injuries _clearly_ not caused by any sort of shipwreck… then as suddenly as they appear they're gone." She froze, clamping her mouth shut when she saw his face darken.

"You're not mortal?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion

"I don't know." She whispered.

"You must have some sort of-"

"I. Cannot. Remember. Anything." Her tone could have frozen the puddles of water beneath their feet. There was a moment of silence where they faced each other off; the girl - stubbornly claming ignorance of the secret that she'd accidentally let slip and the man - who was as equally determined to discover what he thought she was hiding.

"Fine." He said finally, watching her like a fox.

"Fine." She crossed her arms and leant against the wall. Getting up, he handed the girl her scythe,

"Dante."

"Excuse me?"

"My name. Dante… and until you remember, what are you going to call yourself?"

The girl thought for a moment,

"I… don't know.."

"Adriana then." He said suddenly, looking over his shoulder at her.

"What does it mean?"

"The dark woman from the sea."

Thinking hard, Adriana stroked the smooth wood of the scythe,

"Latin." She murmured. Dante hadn't heard her.

"You'd be wise to keep your scythe for the real bad guys."

"And what if I were to skewer you with it out of spite?" She asked innocently. He faced her, intentionally intimidating.

"I'm half-demon, I'd give it back to you."

The look on her face told him that she knew exactly how he'd give it back to her.

The sounds of wood and portals echoed off the walls. Both Adriana and Dante looked around.

"They're back." Adriana swept her scythe in front of her in an arc. Dante stopped her,

"No. There will be more of them this time."

"So what do we do? Run away?"

He almost winced,

"Tactical retreat."

After a long moment, Adriana slid her scythe onto her back and they both disappeared down a dark corridor, footsteps echoing off the stones.


	3. What is he?

As they wound their way through the endless corridors of the castle, Adriana's thoughts finally caught up with her. What the hell was Dante doing on Mallet Island? He was obviously not from here… the small voice in her head kept asking "Was he the one who almost killed you?"

The Marionettes were audible behind them. They reached an old conservatory, where they stopped. The roof had fallen in and it was raining, but it had a door in from the house and a window that locked. Safe...for the moment.

"So why are _you_ here?" Adriana broke the silence with an accusatory tone, "I have a feeling that you don't live here."

Dante was sitting on a fallen piece of the roof. Adriana had chosen to remain standing. His hair was wet with rain, and hung in front of his eyes. He raised his head to look at her through his fringe.

"I'm looking for something." His eyes went to the floor again.

Silence.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm wondering what to do with you."

"You're not _doing_ anything with me." Adriana hissed forcefully.

There was a slithering from the other side of the door, much like the sound that the thousands of bugs made before they mobbed you. Neither of them moved. Dante looked at the window, breaking the gaze.

"You're not afraid of heights are you?"

"Honestly? I can't remember... why?" She asked suspiciously.

Something started ramming itself against the door.

"Ever flown before?"

"No."

He looked at the bulging door,

"First time for everything."

Adriana froze, looking at the window, then him.

"You're not-"

"Yes I am. Hurry, before it gets through."

"You can't fly!"

"Say you."

Another, louder, smack hit the door. It rattled. Adriana jumped gracefully over the blocks of ceiling, kicking the window to break the glass. It tinkled to the ground. Dante leapt onto the ledge, offering her a hand. She jumped up herself, without taking his hand.

"Hold on to me." With a loud crackling sound, lightning coursed down his body. Blackened and hard wings erupting from his back, Adriana froze in horror as his hands thickened into sharp, wicked-looking claws. He rose his gaze, his fiery blue eyes burning with the same light as his thickened sin and repeated in a rough voice,

"_Put your arms around my neck_."

Closing her eyes, repulsed, she put her arms around his neck. Lightning hummed around them, tickling her skin playfully and making Dante's thick skin thrum with energy.

"Drop me," Adriana whispered in his ear threateningly, "...and I'll haunt you for the rest of your immortal life."

"_Don't tempt me_." He said. The joke sounded strangely detached, like he was concentrating on something else. The old door finally gave way. A massive nest of enormous beetles exploded into the room, spotting them on the other side of the room.

"_I think that's my cue_." Dante put his arms around her back and jumped into the rainy clouds. Leaving the creatures, angry and frustrated that their prey had escaped.

They landed on the wet ground in a courtyard. Adriana released her hold of him. Almost immediately, Dante went back into his Human form, knees buckling with exhaustion. Adriana stopped him from falling, barely. He fell to his knees.

"What are you?" She asked.

"What does it matter?" He spat, "I saved your life. You should be grateful."

Adriana started to think that maybe she had got him wrong. Whatever she'd just encountered must have been a sore point. Perhaps she'd simply decided to pin her suspicions on the first person she met? He wasn't cold, just hard to reach. She stood up, offering him a hand.

"Thankyou."

He studied her face, looking for something. Sarcasm? Deception? Fear? He took the hand and got up.

"We should find somewhere out of the rain to stay during the night."

Adriana 's heart fell a little. She nodded, turning away to look around at the gardens of the castle and glowering at the overgrown plants.

"Anywhere you know of?" She said coldly.

"Yes, this way." He started walking again.

Adriana balled her fists and followed him, striking a tree as she passed it. The bark cracked under the strain and as she walked away, it twisted and blackened. Dying...

Dante had taken first watch. Adriana was using her arms as a pillow, with her back to him. He could hear her breathing. The girl, wrapped in the cloak of a Sin, wasn't asleep yet.

She fascinated him. She _said_ was mortal, but she fought too well for a mortal. Only, that didn't explain why she seemed so confused when he'd told her that she was on Mallet Island. A sudden thought struck him.

**_The Sin. _**

He looked once again at Adriana's back. He remembered where he'd see her before...

* * *

All of the wind was knocked from his chest as he hit the wall. The Marionette, strangely smarter than the rest of his counterparts, screamed in triumph. The others around him smashed their blades together. Dante didn't know, but they strangely resembled a band of Vikings. Bloodthirsty... and stupid.

"Haha." Dante tried to clear the fog from his head, "Very funny. Sneaking up on me? That's new." Stretching his fatigued shoulders backwards, he slid Alastor from his back. "Must've spent hours practicing that one."

He swung Alastor's hilt and threw the giant sword at the Marionette. If the Marionette could have spoken, it would have sworn. It was carried backwards and hit the wall on the other side of the room where it was pinned against the big stones, struggling feebly.

Using his two - now free - hands, he used Ebony and Ivory to rid the room of the remaining Marionettes. They fell, disintegrating into dust piles on the floor.

His boots echoed off the stone floor and lightning flashed from outside the huge balcony. As his shadow fell across the Marionette, it was suddenly afraid. The Son of Sparda was covered in dust from his fallen companions... their blood. It was obvious that he was mildly pissed off and he wasn't even looking at it. The way that he sighed, raised his gun and pulled the trigger carelessly made the puppet realised something in its dim mind, moments before it was obliterated.

The Son of Sparda was bored.

Pulling Alastor from the wall, Dante swung the floppy cloth from the end of his blade and slid it back into the straps on his back. He glanced to the right, catching sight of a four-poster bed next the wall, a chest at the foot of the ruined curtains.

Dante cracked his neck and knelt to open the chest. He still needed to find more Orbs to get him out of here, and in a place like this, they could be anywhere. He flipped up the two catches and lifted the heavy lid.

It smelt stale and musty.

Drawing himself back slightly from the chest he paused for a moment, hearing something behind him. Listening carefully, the sound faded. He went back to the chest and its contents - but ready to draw Ebony and Ivory if anything tried to surprise him again.

If Dante had turned around, he would have seen the glimpse of the Sin gliding in through the door. It must have been new, because it had no blood-stains on its black sheets. However, he did hear the rustling fabric.

He stood and drew Ebony and Ivory, dully feeling a small sense of deja vu. However, the Sin was faster and swiped the scythe at him. He was tossed about 3 meters and slid onto the balcony. Groaning, he put a hand to the side that the scythe had connected with. The cut was healing, but still...

The Sin flew for him. In a split second, lightning cracked through the air and Dante drew Alastor in the flash, dropping Ebony and Ivory. He skewered the Sin and flipped it over the balcony. Lightning struck the Sin's scythe and it fell through the 20 meter drop.

Dante paused in the doorway to the balcony, catching the small sound of impact on the water. However, it sounded too solid to be the Sin. He spun and leant over the balcony; in the water, he could have sworn he'd seen a mass of black hair disappear beneath the waves. He stepped backwards, out of sight.

He looked behind him, then over the balcony again. Nothing. Pushing himself away from the balcony, Dante walked through the room, picked up Alastor and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

Coming down from the second floor, he encountered a small Marionette problem. One managed to smack Ebony out of his hand and it slid across the stones. Sidestepping the creature's blades, he drew Alastor then paused. Further along the room someone was watching another Sin fall to the floor, a scythe on their back.

The Marionettes saw the turned back and decided to attack the unwary fighter. A small click must have alerted the person, and they spun, cutting down the Marionette.

Fast. Impressive.

The moonlight hit the figure and Dante realised that it was a _girl_! She cut down another two Marionettes and he shook his head. She'd left her back open; almost on cue, a Marri took it as a sign to fasten itself around her shoulders. He leant against the wall, not encouraged in any way to help the girl. If she couldn't fight a hoard of Marionettes, then she shouldn't have been here. She used a Marionette as a shield against a candelabra thrown by another. It was then that things started to get interesting.

The scythe in her hands danced and spun – her attacks growing disturbingly familiar. She smacked the Mari on her shoulder and crushed it against the wall, where it deflated.

Two of the Maris looked at each other and threw themselves at her simultaneously. Overwhelmed by two of them at the same time, the girl was knocked against a wall where she shook her head violently, trying to get to her feet.

Dante sighed. He probably _should_ stop her from getting ripped to shreds...

He jumped onto the dead body of a Marionette, the wood sliding across the stone floor, and scooped up Ebony from the ground. He let the empty clip fall from the handle and snapped another full clip into place, jumping off the Marionette. It smashed into the wall as he shot the semi-circle of Maris around the dazed girl. The others cast fearful glances back at him and scattered back into the darkness.

The girl used one arm to pull herself to her feet. He noticed the other was deeply cut. Shrugging, he turned around to go but stopped, taken with the urge for a sarcastic comment.

"You fight like one of _them_." He narrowed his eyes, "but you don't look it."

She frowned, still hazy and seemed to notice her gashed arm for the first time. She wavered,

"I think... that... can't be good." The girl's knees gave way and she crumpled onto the floor.

* * *

Being tugged back to the present, Dante watched Adriana 's back rise and fall with each breath. He couldn't force himself to leave her here, by herself. He knew that without him she'd die, but then again; without an extra fighter, he'd probably be dead too. Sin or not, he did need help. Something was making the hellish creatures around the castle stronger, faster and smarter.

For the time being, however, he _had_ to find out more about her… before it cost him his life.

The next morning, Adriana woke to sunlight streaming through the holes in the walls. She frowned, confused. Dante hadn't woken her to take over. She rolled over and put on her glasses out of reflex, after sleeping without them on. Dante was still sitting on the block of stone a few metres away.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up."

Adriana sat up,

"You didn't wake me."

"I didn't need to."

"You could have fallen asleep."

"But I didn't."

"We could have been attacked by Sins and killed because you felt like playing Superman."

Her words stung him, slightly.

"However, we weren't, and now we have a completely alert fighter." He replied.

Adriana picked up her cloak of Sin and shook it, making the black cloth crack in the silence of the castle.

"So now, there's more chance of me surviving a fight, than you? You do realise that now, I'll have to look out for you if we run into trouble?"

"I'm fine."

Adriana harrumphed as she wrapped the black fabric around her shoulders, muttering something about males. Dante raised his head at her tone of voice. She glared, but laughter was flickering in her green eyes, she had obviously thought of a comeback, but restrained herself from letting it fly.

Dante resisted the urge to sigh.

This was going to be a long day...


	4. Captive

Sorry bout the long waiting period!

I got the BEST REVIEW EVER today; someone trying to be hardcore called my fic a MarySue. It was hilarious cause they must have just read my summary. Cause I have in big letters across the top of chapter one: MY OC AND DANTE DO _NOT_ FALL IN LOVE! (Which is the point of a MarySue)

I'm VERY sick atm, so this really made my day. I love laughing at people's stupidity :P

* * *

When Trish woke everything was black.

For a fleeting moment she hadn't known whether she had opened her eyes or not. Her head began to pound as she woke up completely and she squeezed her eyes shut again in pain. Her fingers scraped lightly against the sandstone floor and wall as she felt out gingerly.

She took a moment to listen; the light scuttle of cockroaches tapping across the floor, the slow drip of water from the walls. She shifted, noticing the unnatural heaviness of her arms and legs were accompanied by the clink of heavy iron chains. She tugged on the chains on her right arm, hearing the screech of metal on metal.

Drawing Sparda from her back she swung the sword and jammed it upon the iron ring on the wall. Blinking as the sparks lit the room momentarily, she flung the sword onto the ground and looked around as he eyes started to adjust to the darkness.

"Great…" She muttered, seeing that it was night outside. Whatever creepy crawly had dragged her here in the first place would undoubtedly be lurking somewhere in the building. She picked Sparda up from the floor and brushed the slime off it almost lovingly as she sat down on a stone block.

As she looked over her shoulder to sheath the large sword on her back she noticed the large hole in the wall to her right. It looked like something had burst out of the room through the wall. Looking up, she saw the dim outline of the roof above the hole sagging dangerously. The roof was set to collapse at any time.

Under a barred window, directly across from Trish, was a table, hidden in the shadow of the broken wall. Blinking, it took a moment for Trish to recognise what was on the table. A hook, a knife and a wicked-looking screw, all made of silver and throbbing with a sickly purple light.

This was a torture chamber for Demons.

Stepping back towards the wall, she spun and in one fluid motion drew Sparda and brought it down across the chains that held her to the wall. The screech of metal on metal pierced the room and spark jumped from the sword but not a dint was made on the chain.

"A magic chain," Trish sneered to the darkness, "How droll."

She clenched her fists and stamped on a roach in frustration, feeling a satisfying 'pop' under her boot. Who would be suicidal enough to kidnap her, let alone leave her unsupervised with a sword?

Someone with the confidence to know that she couldn't escape.

With a growl of irritation, she sat back down on the stone. Where the hell was Dante? Oh yes, off gallivanting on Dumary Island with that redhead. He'd been gone a week, last thing she remembered… hadn't he done the job yet?

Actually… Trish frowned, she had no idea how long she been out of it. In fact, she had a feeling she'd been here for a while. There had been something familiar abou waking up in this room – like she'd done it before. Recently.

By this time, her eyes had almost fully adjusted to the darkness – more so than a humans. She noticed the dark red-brown stains on the sandstone floor between the heels of her boots. Traveling up the length of her boots she followed dried rivulets of blood and blood splashes on the black leather. Looking down at herself she took in the sight of her bloodstained clothes with a growing sense of dread. Her pale skin was untouched, but the stains on her clothing served as a reminder of what must have happened.

She'd _already_ been tortured. She'd healed well since then, but there was no telling for how long.

She looked at the curved hook on the table once more, this time starting to remember something from not so long ago…

She was on the floor, clawing at the soft sandstone floor – slippery and slick with her blood. Her lungs burned as she breathed in the stench of the blood – sharp and metallic, stinging the inside of her ravaged throat.

"Come now darling…" A soft slender hand lifted her head from the floor and she gazed with eyes of fury into her torturers face. The Demon smiled at her from the depths of its black hood. It skin - dark ashen grey with glittering silver markings – was spotted with blood spray. She smiled wickedly, her milky white eyes shimmering in the light, and plunged a serrated blade into the back of Trish's knee.

Crying out in pain and fury, Trish struck out at the Demon with a long-nailed hand. The Demon caught her wrist and gently levered the knife between the bones in Trish's knee. The Demon Hunter cried out again as white-hot pain lanced through her leg up to her hips and spread like fire through her chest.

"We both want the same thing, don't we?" The Demon's breath was beautiful; sweet and intoxicating. The Demon was beautiful… why didn't she just give in? Something so beautiful can't be evil, can it?

"The Son of Sparda…" The black Demon cooed, "I want him, you want him… though I believe you would want him somewhat more… tenderly." She twisted the knife slowly and gently, which was worse than if she had jerked it savagely. Trish screamed and raked the floor with her nails. She felt the soft folds of the Demons cloak around her, gentle and cool. They flowed through the air like black smoke, teasing her. "Where is he?"

"I told you," Trish spat blood onto the sandstone, "He disappeared with a redhead. I didn't know Demons got that desperate." Trish laughed hollowly, "Why not go rape a human and give me a reason to kill you?"

The Demon pulled back her hood with a bloodstained hand, letting her long black hair cascade over the cloak and sighed.

"Must you be so vulgar?" She picked up a long corkscrew from the table against the wall, "If I had wanted sex then that's what I would have done." She slid a finger up the menacing curve of the screw, caressing it. With a gasp of pain, Trish ripped the knife from her leg, clutching it tightly in her hand.

"You're a twisted bitch, Kali. You haven't changed a bit since we were Mundas' lapdogs."

"Why thankyou." The Demon smiled as she drifted back across the room. With a snarl, Trish flung the knife at the Demon; smiling when she heard the satisfying 'thunk' as it buried itself in her chest. With immense strength she leapt to her feet, drawing Sparda in a flash. The Demon caught the sword with the corkscrew, her eyes glittering as the two Demon women matched gazes; faces inches apart.

Trish hissed in pain as she felt her assaulted right knee begin to fold under the force of the Demon.

"I always was stronger than you, darling." The Demon purred. Trish smiled,

"But I was always faster."

The Demon frowned in puzzlement for a second, which was all the time Trish needed to spin and send the Demon flying across the room with a thunderous kick. With a cry the Demon was slammed into the wall. Using all of the energy she could muster, Trish sent a blinding trail of white lightning after it, pounding it harder against the wall. The cloak around the Demon snapped and hissed in the wind Trish was forcing against the wall.

There was a low rumble as the stones behind the Demon gave way. She tumbled into the darkness of the night with screams of fury, which faded then finally ceased. As silence fell on the bloody room, Trish stumbled against the wall.

"One down…" She muttered, her vision blackening, "…now where the fuck is Dante?"

She slumped against the wall, drawing Sparda close to her and collapsed, unconscious.

Trish looked at the corkscrew on the floor and shuddered.

She figured that if she had been unconscious long enough to heal properly, then Kali must have fallen to her death. It was a known thing that the Mother of all Sins couldn't fly like her children could.

Only one problem remained; how the hell was she supposed to get out of here? Kali had probably cursed the chains so that she was the only one who could break them, and if she was dead…

Trish growled in irritation. Where the hell was Dante when you needed him? If he hadn't fucked off to Dumary Island then she wouldn't have been ambushed by those Death Scissors and Sin Scythes whilst trying to hold down the fort at Devil Never Cry.

Trust a male to disappear when you need him.


	5. Teamwork?

Sorry bout the long wait. Uni essays... ugh...

* * *

"Try me."

Adriana grinned slyly at the Marionette and stared it in the eyes. The dead glassy beads flared once with a dim red glow and it lunched towards her. Sidestepping its long spindly arms, she swept the black scythe around her body; catching it behind her head with her left hand.

The Marionette expelled a cloud of dust and flopped to the ground, unmoving.

"Are you done yet? Or were you waiting for the invitations to be printed?" Dante was leant against a pillar below, reloading Ebony and Ivory. He sighed and looked up at her through the sizable hole in the floor, "Just get the damn key."

Something tiny and metallic spun through the collapsed ceiling, whistling slightly with the speed at which it was traveling. Dante caught it in his hand, ignoring the bite of the sharp metal in his palm.

"Got it?" Adriana spat viperously.

"Bout time."

Dante flipped it in his hand with a 'ping!' and caught it again, sliding it into his pocket. Adriana landed on the stone floor beside him, disturbing the moldy scraps of paper that littered the floor.

"So what's with the Marionettes? No Prides, no Wraths…" Adriana slid her scythe into the two leather straps on her back she'd tied together earlier, "Where's the variety in this meal?"

Dante spun and slammed a hand against the wall beside her. Adriana flinched.

"See that's the thing." He said in a low voice, "You keep surprising me with things that a normal human wouldn't know…"

"And?" Adriana laid a hand on her scythe. The Demon Hunters eyes flashed dangerously,

"I don't like surprises."

"Think of it this way, jackass," Adriana said smoothly, "The more I know, the less you need to tell me. The less you need to tell me, then the faster we'll get to your little girlfriend."

At the mention of Trish, Dante seemed to remember the time constraint they were operating in. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and walked out of the room. Adriana smiled to herself and slinked after him down the spiral stairway.

"So exactly how long till the ruins starts changing?" She asked.

"It was sunset last thing I knew." Dante sidestepped a piece of fallen sandstone, "But that was before the mouth to the hellgate was closed when I kicked Mundus' creepy sandstone ass."

"So the castle being destroyed once could have changed its behaviour?" Adriana frowned. That name… Mundus... sounded familiar. Maybe he…? No. Dante said he was dead, so how could he have been the one that left her for dead on the beach?

"Perhaps. Yes, no… there's now way of predicting these things."

They reached the top of the stairs, dispatching of another two Bloody Maris swiftly. Dante slid two pitch black gauntlets onto his hands and sheathed Alastor The gauntlets hummed and flared briefly. Adriana eyed them suspiciously,

"Demon arms?"

"Yes."

"Who'd you kill to get them?"

Dante paused,

"Okay, I'm going to tackle the courtyard. You take the coliseum and think," He drew closer to her, "What sort of weapon do you think you'd turn into if I decided to kill you?"

He faded into the darkness, leaving Adriana momentarily stunned. He wouldn't! Sure they didn't get along, but really…

Clenching her fists, she crossed through a door and slammed it behind her, making the hinges rattle. She flinched slightly as it creaked and fell onto the floor with a crash. The impact made the statuette on a pedestal beside her wobble and tip. In a flash, she caught it in both hands before it hit the floor. _So much for the element of surprise_, she thought as she gingerly placed it back on the pedestal.

She was in an old bedroom; a four-poster bed lurked on the far side away from her. On her left was a large, very dirty mirror. She caught sight of her own reflection and stopped, transfixed; she realised that since she'd washed up on the beach she'd forgotten what she looked like.

She watched the young woman in the mirror walk closer on black soft leather boots. Her black pants hugged her hips and legs, belted with a brown leather belt and brass buckle. Looking down at herself she examined more closely the blue cincher and black cotton shirt that she wore.

It was showing signs of the sea water's damage; flakes of white salt clung to the shirt that hung off her bare shoulders, torn. Slashes were taken out of the arms and a large slash showed the pale white of her skin at the back. Her black pants were faded and worn in places, crusted with the remnants of sea salt.

"Lovely." She muttered and started brushing herself off vigorously. When she was convinced she'd got as much salt as she could off her she turned back to the mirror, stepping closer to it. Letting her gaze linger over the dark brows, deep-set blue eyes and small lips. She ran a finger over the small white scar that traced the line of her right cheekbone.

Her reflection in the mirror seemed to confuse her. Surely it wasn't right? She didn't feel so… small. She sighed and leant against the mirror, looking out the window into the garden. What was going on? When she'd woken up and first entered the ruins of the castle she'd been so afraid… so timid. Now she had so much anger… like there was something she needed to do but couldn't for the life of her remember what it was!

Musing the thought, she didn't notice the mirror shimmer behind her shoulders. The reflection shifted and rippled under her like silk.

Adriana suddenly fell backwards with a muted cry as a pair of arms burst from the mirror and wrapped themselves around her, pulling her under its wet surface with a gurgle.

* * *

Dante used the rough sandstone wall of the greenhouse to vault onto its roof with a grunt. The reptilian monstrosities that were pursuing him from the larger courtyard he'd passed through leapt and snarled at his feet.

He kicked a particularly ugly one in the face with the flat of his boot,

"Sorry. Dante's off the menu today."

He snatched a red orb from the green roof and pocketed the glistening rock, looking around. Still nothing to lead him to Trish.

In anger, he picked up a chunk of sandstone and sent it spinning towards a lizard with a snarl. Typical women! Good at hiding and playing hard to get!

He looked up at a tower in the ruins of the castle and wondered if Adriana had fared any better than he had. He sat back on his heels and waited to catch his breath – he wasn't as young as he once was.

The girl had him stumped. He'd retraced his steps through the ruined gardens and examined the rock pools the Sin had fallen into. His suspicions had been dashed on the rocks with the torn cloak of the Sin and its mask. There was no way anything, even a Demon spirit, would have been able to survive that fall.

A lizard – a particularly good one at jumping – snapped his jaws at Dante's feet, spraying the polished leather of his boots with saliva. Lazily, Dante fired a round into its head with Ebony. He figured that now would be the best time to get moving.

He ran and leapt onto a particularly rough stone and started scaling the wall of the castle. He wasn't very comfortable with leaving the amnesia-stricken girl alone for too long; more from the fear that she'd suddenly regain her memory and run off, leaving him stranded.

He paused at a balcony and looked out at the sun. It was low in the horizen… meaning they had very little time left until the ruins did – or didn't – change around them. The sight of the setting sun gave him the extra push to vault onto the balcony overhead.

The large room before him was hauntingly familiar…

The blue tiles on the floor were chipped and charred, sprinkled with shattered glass. Twin black spiral staircases wound around the far end of the hall and met at a red door, which was lying on one side.

He drew Ebony and Ivory, stepping cautiously along the wall of the room. His booted footsteps echoed off the stone walls emptily. The scorch marks on the floor were randomly spread and had left shallow indentations in the stone floor. Dante stopped at one and crouched down; laying a hand on the flaked glaze that had been used to cover the tiles.

The amulet around his neck thrummed and sighed almost sadly. He stood quickly and stepped away, remembering the room all too well again. The last time he'd been here was when he'd seen Virgil… and killed him, discovering that the green knight was his twin all too late.

What a time to remember murdering his brother. He had other things to think about; like finding Trish. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he stepped over the broken door into the gloom.

He didn't have time for ghosts anymore.


	6. Through the looking glass

As she fell, Adriana let herself drop towards the floor - out of the arms that had held her – and she rolled, lashing out at the body behind her with a thick leather heel. She smiled, satisfied, when she felt it contact with something soft.

There was a hollow 'oof!' that resounded in the pitch black room as she leapt to her feet.

"You're going to have to try harder than that to surprise me." She growled into the dark. She could see almost nothing in the room save for the dim outline of the four-poster bed and the stormy sky outside the window. Had the weather turned that quickly?

With a cry, a tall figure leapt at her – unarmed – but with surprising strength. Adriana gasped for breath as she was slammed against a wall and slid to the floor.

Head spinning, she swung her legs around and used their momentum to leap to her feet once more, following the action through with a wide roundhouse kick that contacted with her attackers chest side-on. She took a strained breath as the figure's fist arced through the air then darted to the side, using her right hand to push her attacker into the wall with a 'smack'.

He turned but stopped dead when he felt the cold bite of the edge of her scythe against his neck. Adriana tried to stop the shaking of her exhausted arms and she rested the scythe against her right hip.

"I'll give you one chance to beg for your life before I separate your head from your shoulders." She snarled. The figure, whose face was still hidden by shadow, suddenly faded from sight like an old television image; her scythe made a small 'chink' as it hit the stone wall.

"What the-" She spun her scythe suddenly, feeling the cold steel of a blade nick her neck and the two weapons met in the air with a piercing screech. The scythe spun in her hands and was wrenched from her grip by the sword, sent spinning along the floor and sending sparks dancing from the blade like a flint.

"You cheating bastard." She hissed through clenched teeth. He backed her against a wall and let the end of the sword scrape against the wet sandstone.

"You know us, Artemis. It's what we do."

"What did you just call me?"

The figure twisted the sword in the sandstone and Adriana caught a glimpse of her attackers reflection in the blade.

"Dante!?"

The sword slid suddenly too far. Adriana ducked and rolled under his feet, sweeping his feet from under him and clasping a hand around her scythe. They both recovered quickly, blades at each other's necks in a flash… only this time they were caught in the moonlight.

The man barely a few arm-lengths away from her bared an uncanny resemblance to Dante, save for his black, blue-lied coat and swept-back hair. He seemed to recognise her too, eyeing her with suspicion,

"Who the fuck are you? You look like Artemis, but don't fight like her."

"You look like Dante, but he's in the courtyard." Adriana let the dangerous curve of her scythe rest on his neck, "What are you, his twin brother?"

"You could say that."

She gave a half-laugh,

"Really? Last thing I heard, he'd murdered you."

"Me? Or did he only think it was me?"

Adriana frowned. Now he was playing with her. He could be anyone… she'd walked right into this problem. She'd suggested he was Dante's brother – whatever his name was – and now he was going to play with that whether or not he actually _was_ Dante's brother.

"Who's Artemis?" She asked testily, still keeping a firm hold of her scythe.

"She's you." He replied, eyeing her up and down, "Thought somewhat more… well-dressed; less salt."

"Where am I?" She had the sudden feeling of déjà vu. She'd been the in the ruins of the castle and last thing she knew the sky wasn't red and storming.

"In the mirror… or through the mirror would be more exact. Who are you?"

Adriana paused, judging him.

"Adriana."

There was a long silence.

"Aren't you going to put down your sword?" She asked guardedly.

"You first."

Neither of them moved.

"How do you know Dante?" He asked.

"I found him in the castle. He's looking for his little sidekick." Adriana jerked her chin in the direction of the mirror, "And how do you know Artemis?"

"Well."

She raised an eyebrow,

"She's your girlfriend."

"More of a sleeping buddy… she's no-one's friend."

Another long silence followed.

"Are you planning on trying to kill me?" He asked.

"Are you going to give me a reason?" She countered.

With a tiny movement, he moved his sword away from her. Adriana did the same with her scythe, her arms screaming thanks.

"What are you doing here?" He slid the sword into a sheath on his back.

"Let's just say I want to get even with someone I haven't found yet… and I'm looking for Trish."

"Who's Trish?"

"Dante's girlfriend."

"You're not with him?"

"God no!" Adriana cringed at the thought, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Artemis. She went through the mirror a few days ago at the start of the cycle of the moon and hasn't come back."

"What's the moon got to do with anything?"

"The portal seals at the end of the cycle." His eyes flashed, "In two days time."

"Why'd she go?"

"That's our business."

Adriana frowned. Why would only one of them go through at a time?

"So why did you grab me?" She asked, "I get that you fight a lot. That's your… thing?"

"You could say that." He smiled slyly. She raised an eyebrow, catching his meaning.

"So now what?" She slid her scythe into the straps on her back.

"We find Dante."

"What about Artemis?"

"I have a suspicion," The white-haired Demon smiled coldly, "That when we find Trish, we'll find her."

Honoring the truce between them, Adriana stepped back and let him disappear through the mirror first. Drawing her scythe once more in case of ambush, she eyed the surface of the mirror. It seemed flat and calm… almost the opposite of the other side of the mirror that she'd seen. So was this just another room in the ruins or… something else?

She pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind and stepped through the mirror, letting the cold surface brush past her skin.

When she opened her eyes again, she had to blink. Both Dante (at least she assumed it was Dante) and the white-haired Demon were at arms, guns and sword pointed at the other. Dante growled,

"Now who the fuck are you?"


	7. Threesome

Sorry for the long wait, I actually finished this chap ages ago. I thought I'd uploaded it. Oops... anyways...

* * *

"Now who the fuck are you?" The Half-blood growled. 

It hadn't been all that long ago that the strange white-haired Demon had demanded that of someone…

"_Ose_."

The Skin-walker shivered inside the membranous skin he was wearing, ignoring the frenzied screams of pain coming from behind the dumpster to his left.

"OH GOD! MY SKIN! HE TOOK MY FUCKING **SKIN**!!!" The youth squirmed and flailed in pain against the bloodstained concrete.

"_Ose, love_."

The Skin-walker felt soft lips brush his new left ear. He stretched, letting his muscles knot and connect with the new skin. He was completely naked, but his nerves were yet to connect with those in his new skin; so the cold night had no effect on him.

"Fuck off." He growled hoarsely, lisping slightly from the loose skin not yet tightened around his lips, "Can't you fee I'm bi'fy?"

White mist, perfumed like flowers, started to curl around him. He felt slender hands slide over his bare shoulders. The echo of heels rhythmically approached.

"_Surely you could make time for me_?" The voice whispered in his ear.

The Skin-walker called Ose cast a glance back. The only other person in the alley – besides that squirming brat behind the dumpster (Wasn't he dead _yet_?) - was a prostitute, leaning against the brick wall of the Chinese Takeaway shop beside the alley. Her long black hair draped over her cheap clothes; tight jeans, skin-tight black singlet top and cracked leather jacket. Her eyes glowed in the light of the cigarette in her right hand as she stared at him. She took another drag of the cigarette,

"_So this is what you've been reduced to_?" He lips didn't move as she spoke, "_Picking off the scraps in alleys like a common rat_?"

"Now who the fuck are you?" Ose snarled. She smiled and let the butt of the cigarette fall to the floor where she ground it into the wet cement with a crunch.

* * *

"Last person I asked that, half-blood, strung me out to within an inch of my life." The white-haired Demon smiled coldly, "Would you like to know what it felt like?" He sneered and lunged, sword flashing in the light of the sunset.

Dante used the side of Ivory and deflected the blade, sending sparks falling to the floor. After a moment of pause, during which the Demon and Dante stared each other down, Dante drew Alastor and holstered his guns.

"How about knowing what it's like to get your ass kicked by a half-blood?" He cracked the vertebrae in his neck loudly. The Demon grinned and shifted weight to leap at him again.

Suddenly both blades were stopped mid-air, screeching against the gentle curve of a scythe. Adriana twisted the scythe and caught both blades in the angle of the handle and blade, twisting both swords free of the men's hands.

With a twist, Dante drew Ebony; clasping a hand around the wooden staff of the scythe and pushing the tip of his gun under Adriana's chin. The Demon shifted and disappeared, reappearing behind him with a gun of his own cocked to the back of Dante's head.

"Just whose damn side are you on?" Dante hissed at Adriana.

"No-ones, apparently." The Demon answered for her - Adriana, chin bruised from the butt of the black gun - ducked and weaved, using a sweeping kick to knock the gun from Dante's hands. At precisely the same time, the Demon lunged for Adriana's scythe; leaving himself open Dante twisting once again – coat flaring – and taking his gun.

The result of this was Adriana crouched under Dante; a gun under his chin, the Demon behind Dante; the blade of Adriana's scythe curving threateningly around her neck, and Dante; holding both Ivory and the Demon's gun at opposing foes.

Neither of the three moved.

"What hole did you drag _him_ from?" Dante jerked his head at the Demon.

"Behind the mirror." Adriana jerked her head at the large dirty mirror on the wall a short way away. She suddenly spun, using a foot to sweep both men off their feet and catching Ivory before it hit the floor. She stood over them both, a gun on each man.

"Why don't we try playing nice?" She asked. Both platinum-haired men looked at each other then leapt to their feet, sending the trio crashing through a wall into the next room. The Demon had his sword once more - picked up from the ground when he fell – pointed at Dante's chest. Dante - in possession of the Demon's gun and Ivory again – had the Demon's own gun cocked under his chin and Ivory resting against Adriana's chest. Unarmed, Adriana simply glared at both of them.

"Why don't we start with introductions?" The Demon tapped his sword against Dante's coat, making it 'chink' on his black buttons.

"You seem to know who I am… I wouldn't suggest that." Dante placed a boot on Adriana's chest as she started to rise.

"You," The Demon eyed him up and down, "Are Dante… the son of Sparda. Yes?"

"And you know that, how?"

"Who wouldn't? You walk around with white hair; wearing a bright red coat… you stand out more than a little."

"And you are?" Dante narrowed his eyes in suspicion. The Demon was silent. Adriana lashed out with a foot, catching the Demon under his ribcage – breaking ribs with a 'crack'. He stumbled, winded. Dante caught the Demons arm and twisted it behind his back savagely.

"Well?" He hissed.

"Fuck you." The Demon snarled.

"He _claims_ he's your brother… more or less." Adriana leant back on the chunk of sandstone she was resting on.

"Oh yes?" Dante's grip tightened on Ivory, "I've heard many a Demon claim to be the long lost soul of my dead twin brother."

"What makes you doubt me?" The Demon asked, "I have Yamato, don't I?"

"What did our mother give us for our 7th birthday? Icecream, Cake or something else?"

"Our father's amulet, broken in two."

There was a long silence… Adriana had never seen Dante speechless before. The Demon suddenly flung his sword to the side, leapt on Dante and rolled, slamming them both against a hard sandstone wall.

A gunshot echoed in the room and Adriana leapt to her feet. Who had shot who?

Both men didn't move for a moment, until Dante lifted his right hand and shoved the Demon off him onto the floor with a grunt.

"You killed him!" Adriana gaped, "Your brother…"

"He's not dead." Dante said quietly. Snapping another clip into Ivory, he stood. After a moment, he offered Adriana a hand. She took it, standing stiffly. Dante suddenly closed a hand around her arm, pulling her closer.

"…and if you _ever_ point another weapon at me," He murmured under his breath into her ear, "game or no game – you won't live long enough to regret it." Adriana heard the threat thicken in his voice. He released her arm and crouched next to the groaning Demon.

"Why isn't he healing?" She asked quietly, not wanting to provoke him further.

"My bullets." Dante drew a clip and tossed a bullet in her direction. She caught it deftly and examined it in the fading light.

"Holy Water cast in silver casings can stop anything from the Underworld dead in its tracks."

"So why didn't you kill him?"

Dante was silent. He rose and picked up Ebony, Alastor and Adriana's scythe from the other room.

"What are we going to do with him?"

He slid Alastor into its sheath on his back and tossed the scythe to Adriana. He checked his watch and looked outside the window at the fading sun.

"Okay, this is what's happening." Dante said, "We have 15 minutes until the castle changes-"

"Or not." Adriana muttered.

"If and when it does," He continued casting a glance at the crumpled form of the Demon in the floor, "You will be here with… Vergil."

_Oh, so now we believe him? _Adriana asked silently and sighed, "You're leaving me with a Demon who could wipe the floor with my ass!" She shot at his turned back as he left the room.

"Maybe he'll save me the effort." Dante muttered.


	8. First Watch

Ose pushed the prostitute against the wall.

"So what are you? Psychic? Wiccan?" He sneered.

"_I'll let you find out for yourself_." She laid a thin hand on his bare chest. The nerves of his new skin suddenly buried themselves into his muscle with a white-hot flash. Goosebumps spread across the new skin as he started to feel just how cold the night was.

"What are you?" He asked again, more from curiosity. She smiled and walked around him, eyeing him as a cat would a mouse.

"_Let's just say_," Her lips brushed against the skin of his back, "_I've come to make you an offer_."

Ose grinned maliciously, clasping a hand around a pale arm and pulling her closer.

"I'm not paying for anything I take." He whispered into her ear. Her eyes flashed and started to bleed white,

"_That's what you think_." She snaked a hand around his neck, pulling him down into a savage kiss. His bones jumped and shuddered inside him, giving him a thunderous sense of vertigo. The world around him changed, blurred and spun. He fell to his knees with a gasp.

"Do you accept?"

The prostitute had changed. Her skin was bleeding to an ashen gray - with silver tattooed markings across it - her eyes were a bright white and lips a deep red – so red they were almost black.

They were not in the alley anymore.

Blood!

Flesh!

Blades!

* * *

Adriana frowned.

"Virgil" seemed to be having some sort of unconscious nightmare. She'd sat him against the wall – her scythe a short way away. He thrashed and moaned, making it hard for her to pull the bullets out of his chest when she was almost getting knocked unconscious with every wave of his powerful arms.

"…damn it. Sit still before I tear your chest open." She growled. His eyes opened slightly, bright with shock and rolled around the room.

"_NO!_" Without warning, he grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. Adriana grabbed her scythe with one hand, spinning it and letting it rest against the mad Demon's neck.

"You let go of my wrist, or your shoulders let go of your head; Dante's brother or not." She snarled.

"…Artemis…" The Demon brushed his lips against her knuckles.

"We've already had this conversation Ver-…" She paused for a moment. He stared at her intently.

"See?" He whispered, "You don't believe I'm the half-blood's brother."

"Of course I don't. Dante said he'd killed him in this castle 4 years ago… so how could you still be alive?"

"Exactly. He isn't and you knew."

"… because Dante told me."

"Oh really?" He pulled her closer, so their foreheads were almost touching; ignoring the sting of the scythe biting into the skin of his neck, "What is my name?"

Adriana – no matter how hard she tried – wasn't threatened by him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but it wasn't fear – it was something else. Something at the back of her memory niggled and twitched. She was more powerful than him; she could tie him to a bedpost and-

"Agh!" She leapt backwards, swinging the blunt end of her staff around and smacking him across the temple with a 'crack'. His eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped to the side, releasing his hold on her wrist.

Heart galloping around her chest, Adriana looked around for something – anything – to keep him in one spot. Across the other side of the room was a fallen chandelier; its long chain would probably do the trick.

Slamming her scythe down on the heavy brass links of the chain, they were severed in two by the otherworldly weapon. She threw them across the floor where they screeched to a halt beside the unconscious – and Adriana suspected mad - Demon. She severed the chain in two once more and bent two links around his wrists easily. Using the blunt end of the staff, she hammered the links into the sandstone floor with three blows each and stood back to check the state of her scythe.

Not a scratch.

Drawing her Sin cloak around her, she sat down next to him cautiously then went back to picking the pieces of bullet out of his chest.

If he moved; she ran – simple as that.


	9. Phoebus and Demus

Something was wrong.

Dante had managed to move unchallenged through the castle ever since he'd left Adriana in the old bedroom with the thing that claimed to be his brother. Unchallenged; no enemies, not so much as a spider scuttled in the dark corners of the richly carpeted hallway that he was walking down slowly.

It was downright creepy.

Only the distant crash of waves on the cliffs surrounding the castle echoed through the hallways. Looking back over his shoulder, he narrowed his eyes and frowned; this had been the hallway where he'd last encountered Phantom – the only traces that the monolithic molten spider had left were twisted coats of armor, half-melted rock and dark rubble that littered the hallway.

A sudden squeak and a scuttle on the carpet made him freeze; a hand on Alastor's hilt. He sank back against the wall, letting the shadow of a statue fall across him. Petrified, a white and grey rat scuttled past his feet; leaping over a stone and skidding around a corner. It was followed by a huge spider, almost the size of Dantes face. Its thin grey legs scrabbled on the stone floor and it scampered over a chunk of fallen roof, making distressed keening noises.

The Demon Hunter waited for a moment, expecting something big and hairy that had frightened them to leap from the shadows of the other end of the hall.

Nothing. Only silence.

Something wasn't right about this. It was almost nightfall – the time when all manner of preternatural creepy-crawlies liked to slink out of their daytime hiding places. Surely something must be stirring by now? Even the castle itself seemed to be holding its breath at the setting sun; there was no breeze to stir the singed and rotting tapestries on the walls.

Casting a quick look back and down the hallway he continued along the damp red carpet, moving through rooms silently and quickly. Frustration started to churn in his stomach; if he didn't find Trish before the castle changed at nightfall, then he could end up searching through the same rooms all over again – just in different places.

He stopped before entering an old library; perhaps he needed to rethink this. He sat on a stone bench and reordered his thoughts. The infrared security footage that he'd found at Devil Never Cry had clearly shown Marionettes ambushing Trish and dragging her unconscious through a portal. It had only been a cheap camera; one that Trish had hounded Dante into buying barely a few months before, but already it had proved its $49.95 entirely. Not only had it identified Trish's wooden attackers, but given him a massive clue to her whereabouts – Marionettes only lurked on Mallet Island.

A sudden disturbing thought surfaced; if the Maris had managed to open a portal to Devil Never Cry, what was to stop them from opening one somewhere else? Or even taking Trish somewhere else? What if he was wrong and she wasn't here?

It was a disconcerting thought; if the world was big – the underworld was even bigger. He didn't particularly fancy the thought of chasing Trish from one side of the world to the other…

Squaring his jaw, he got to his feet once again and pushed the thought to the side. Instead, he decided to follow a hunch and headed down a spiraling staircase to the only place he could think of that a prisoner might be taken; the dungeon.

* * *

Trish meditated.

She'd already tried venting her frustration on the chains that bound her… and the wall… and the large piece of rock that had fallen whilst she was venting her rage on the wall. So she had taken a deep breath and sat lightly on the poor chipped piece of sandstone, eyes closed, legs crossed and arms resting on her legs whilst she waited for someone to come.

The sun had sunk very low in the sky by the time she finally heard any noise from the other side of the large wooden door.

At first a faint scuffling could be heard, and a little furry nose poked in through the crack between the door and the floor. Feet scrabbling on the stones as it pushed, the rat finally popped through the crack and shook itself; sneezing the dust from its whiskers. Following it, leg by leg, was a large spider – almost the size of Trish's face. It scurried under the door and started climbing a wall. The rat glanced up at Trish's still form and scurried into a dark corner then - noticing that she hadn't moved – started to slowly creep along a wall. Trish studied them through her eyelashes, letting them think that she couldn't see them.

A rat and a spider made strange traveling companions, especially a spider of that size – it was easily big enough to swallow the rat whole. There was only one explanation…

"Come to keep an eye on me?" Trish suddenly asked.

Both critters froze then the spider started spinning web through its two front legs. The rat squeaked and started washing itself.

"Phoebus,"

The spider slipped and dropped the web it had been weaving, suddenly pulling it back to it as if nothing had happened.

"Demus,"

The rat jumped and clutched its tale, edging backwards closer to the wall. "She knows!" It squeaked.

"Well if she didn't then, she does now, you twit!" The spider snapped at him and leapt from the wall. As it hit the floor two scaly legs suddenly erupted from its abdomen, covered in slime and gore. Slowly, the Imp pulled the spider-skin over its head and flung it to the side.

Following his companion, the rat suddenly shuddered and a small clawed hand savagely ripped open the head of the rat-skin from the inside, the Imp split it and climbed out.

The two miniature devils were thin and bony, coming about to Trish's knee, and their yellow scaly skin had black and red animal blood dripping from it. Their heads always seemed too big for their bodies, about the size of a grapefruit, whilst their large triangular ears extended behind them for about 20cm. They were servants of Kali and liked to slink around behind her, so it made sense that they'd take on the forms of insects and pests. They focused their thin red eyes on her and leered through tiny pointed teeth.

"We're not afraid of you." Phoebus – who had shed the spider skin – hissed.

"Oh really?" Trish drawled. With a sudden shout she drew Sparda and struck the floor barely an inch away from him. He leapt backwards with a squawk and windmilled his arms, landing hard on his behind.

"Yeah," She muttered, sitting back down, "Heart of a lion."

Demus tried to help his friend to his feet, his small bony knees knocking together in fright. Trish swept Sparda around and struck them both with the flat of her blade, pinning them against the wall to her left. They cowered up at her as she looked down the blade at them.

"Now," She smiled, "I'd be happy to let you both leave – limbs intact – once you do one _tiny_ favour for me."

"W-w-whatssss that-t-t-t?" Demus gulped. Trish leant forward,

"The word to release these chains."

"Are you insane?!" Phoebus squeaked, "Kali would have our bones for toothpicks!"

"Kali? Never mind Kali!" Demus shuddered, "Artemis would kill us!"

"That was what I was implying, numbskull!" Phoebus brought a fist down on his companion's head. Trish looked at them incredulously,

"They'll kill you? Listen you pair of chattering idiots; _I'll_ kill you!"

With little squeaks of terror, the pair started to transform. As they shrunk Trish grabbed a squirming Demus,

"No you don't!"

He sprouted six legs and wriggled violently as his skin flattened and hardened, making it near impossible for Trish to keep a hold of him. He slipped from her grasp, bounced once on the floor and scurried away towards the door in his new Cockroach-skin.

"Goddamnit!" Trish leapt for him, but was stopped by the sudden jerk of the chains around her wrists, "For fuck's sake!" She exploded as she tugged on the chains.

Suddenly the door burst off its hinges, flattening Demus under the thick wood. Phoebus – who'd taken the form of a Millipede - screamed in terror and scrambled backwards out of his skin, covered in foul-smelling yellow goo.

"No! _Please don't kill me!_" He flung himself onto his knees and begged the figure at the door. There was a loud bang and his tiny body fell to the ground, the head a torn mess of bone and gore.

Trish stood with Sparda and her eyes narrowed,

"You."


	10. Skinwalker

Screams and choked cries rent the air. The foul smell of stale blood mingled with the metallic tang of blood freshly spilt and made the air thick, hard to swallow. Roaring fires swept up through empty chasms spaced apart evenly along the walls of the circular tower, giving the appearance of great rivers of fire trapped against the black marble.

She breathed in deeply; tasting the blood, the scent of terror, the light taint of sweat… and felt at home.

A sweat-streaked man, naked and lightly dusted with ash and blood quivered on his knees in the center of the room below her. A black cloaked figure circled him slowly like a shark. She stilled and listened as voices drifted upwards in the warm air towards her.

"_You will be used for one thing, and one thing only_." Kali snarled, circling him on the floor. He shivered; his wounds at the torture-masters hands had healed, but his blood chilled against his skin icily.

"_You will let her stalk her prey, let her do the talking, let her do the thinking…but if there is a fight, you will __**defend her with your life**__! Do you understand?_"

"Yes, my lady." He answered blankly.

Kali studied him with cruel dark eyes. She had broken his spirit, so he was servant enough to obey her unconditionally… what little spirit he had left would be overcome with fear of displeasing her.

"_One last thing, Skinwalker…_" The man dared to look up at her. She smiled and held up something pale and bloody, "_I have a new skin for you_."

* * *

Adriana was woken suddenly by grunts and rattles. The lingering image of the limp skin hanging from the Demons' arm was burned into her memory. It also seemed strikingly familiar.

Sleepily, she looked over her shoulder and saw the Demon tugging at the chains on his wrists and the floor. They weren't budging. Mild frustration showed on his face; a faint crinkle on his brow and a stubborn set on his jaw.

"Going somewhere?" She asked, rolling onto her back. The Sin cloak was soft and warm – barely making the sandstone floor noticeable. She hadn't intended to sleep so deeply.

"Afraid of something?" He countered, holding out his wrists. Adriana laughed,

"How else am I supposed to sleep without you running off to kill Dante?"

"What makes you think I'll kill him?"

"Well for one thing, if you really are Vergil, then it would be second nature to you – given your colorful history." _Or so Dante has told me,_ She finished silently, "Though even if you aren't Virgil, you've pretty much proved that you would kill him – given the chance."

Glowering, he sank back down to a sitting position on the cold hard floor. He pulled his coat around him tighter.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Adriana sat up, leaning on her elbows.

"Aren't you going to torture me for information?"

"What would make me want to do that?" Adriana sighed and lay back down lazily, "It's too much work."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" The Demon asked slyly, "Information. Where Trish could be, why she's disappeared and Artemis has too."

Adriana didn't answer; just lay on the ground, looking at the roof. Dante would probably be off on some other side of the castle killing something – or someone – to get to Trish. She snorted. Men!

She looked over at the Demon. He really didn't seem bothered at the thought of being tortured.

"Who is Artemis?"

"A Demon… she's blind."

Adriana frowned,

"A blind Demon… how scary."

He laughed,

"She's blind, but she still sees. She sees veins, heartbeats… she's a hunter."

Adriana suddenly sat up, a possibility edging its way into her head.

"Who was she hunting?" She asked. The Demon shook his platinum head,

"It wasn't my place to know."

"Wasn't your place?"

"I don't know, I can't remember."

"Bullshit."

"Unchain me and I may be able to remember something." His eyes glittered. Adriana shook her head,

"How stupid do you think I am?"

"At least I tried."

"Why were you following her around?"

"I was her companion. Hired help for when things went wrong." His face hardened, "I would defend her with my life. Now unchain me."

Adriana's dream came back to her; _Defend her with your life_… was it a dream after all or a memory? She realised why the skin Kali had held looked so familiar – she had been watching over it for the last 24 hours! He wasn't Virgil after all; he was a Skinwalker, whatever that was. But why was it that she knew all this? She didn't even know who Kali was, but she still recognised her in the dream/memory.

"Tell me, _Virgil_." The Demon was lost in thought, but glanced up at her voice. "How much do you know about Skinwalkers?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly,

"Why do you ask?"

"Dante mentioned them." She said lightly. There was a long silence whilst she wondered if he would believe the lie.

"They are deceased souls, from Hell." He said finally, "They have no form in the mortal world, so they steal the skins of others to pass undetected."

"I see…" Adriana stood and shook the Sin cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders. "So how was it that you came across the skin of Dante's brother?"

He smiled widely and spread his hands,

"What can I say? I was wondering how long it would take you to discover me."

"Did you kill him?"

"Dante's brother?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were under the impression that Dante had already killed him over 3 years ago?" He smiled smugly.

"Cut the crap. You're wearing the skin of the son of Sparda and you know it."

"Do I?"

Adriana ground her teeth together. She'd obviously got all that she could out of him – the only way she'd be able to get more is if she unchained him…

Yeah, when Hell freezes over.

At that exact moment, the sun fully disappeared from the horizon. Darkness started to settle on the castle like a blanket and it shuddered, shaking itself awake. The minor Demons and restless spirits that had lay dormant during the daylight started to stir.

Adriana stumbled and fell as the floor started to rumble. The sun; it must have set! The castle was changing form!

Looking though the curved archway where the door had once stood, she saw the spiral staircase that centered in the castle, twisting. Wooden clacks and creaks started to advance up the stairs as the released Marionettes explored the new path – smelling blood.

Adriana leapt to her feet, dodging a piece of fallen sandstone as it broke free of the roof above her. The Skin-walker, still chained to the floor, kicked out at a piece of sandstone roof and sent it flying across the room with a 'smash' next to the entrance archway. The sound seemed to draw the Marionettes faster up the stairs – hearing movement that wasn't a part of the castle.

"You bastard!" Adriana snarled at him.

"Now you have to unchain me." He said flatly, "Without another fighter, you'll die."

"Oh yes?" She sneered as the first scarlet puppet lurched into the vibrating room, "Just watch me."


End file.
